


I Had A Hat When I Came In

by maaaaa



Series: Puffer Bellies [7]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa
Summary: Jim and Blair deal with day-to-day life after Blair suffers a brain injury.
Series: Puffer Bellies [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695412
Kudos: 7





	I Had A Hat When I Came In

**Author's Note:**

> My “Puffer Bellies” series was written between September 2007 and July 2009. It is a WIP that was never quite finished. The stories stand pretty well on their own, but should be read in order.

I Had A Hat When I Came In  


Oh, I had a hat when I came in. I hung it on the rack.  
And I’ll have a hat when I go out or I’ll break somebody’s back.  
I’m a peaceful man, I am I am, and I do not like to shout.  
BUT I HAD A HAT WHEN I CAME IN AND I’LL HAVE A HAT WHEN I GO OUT!  
\- Chorus of an old Irish pub song, as sung by the author’s late father.

“Get a move on, Blair, we’re gonna be late,” Jim barked as he finished the last of the breakfast dishes.

Blair, inside his room, mumbled something in response. Jim could hear him rummaging around, but resisted the urge to go in and offer assistance or hustle him along.

Instead, he called out, “Need any help?” as he dried his hands and hung the towel.

“Found it!” Blair hollered triumphantly and Jim couldn’t even begin to guess what he’d been looking for. They’d laid everything out the night before so there’d be no rushing around in the morning.

When Blair stepped out of his room a few minutes later Jim got his answer.

Blair was wearing the clothes he’d chosen the night before…no layers since it was mid-summer and pleasantly warm. He had his backpack slung over his left shoulder and held a folder containing his diplomas in his right hand.

And he was wearing his Fargo hat.

Blair smiled at Jim and bobbed up and down expectantly on the balls of his feet. “Ready!” he declared enthusiastically.

“You’re not really gonna wear that are you, Chief?” Jim asked casually. He tried not to do it, but his eyes zeroed in on Blair’s head. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter in what he hoped came across as a show of nothing more than polite curiosity. But the tilt of his head, the slight furrowing of his brows, the twitch in his jaw, and the forced blasé jerk of his left shoulder voiced his disapproval of Blair’s hat choice loud and clear.

Blair immediately stilled. He ignored Jim’s body language and replied succinctly only to the question. “Yep.”

The way he managed to convey a truckload of obstinate sassiness in that one word made Jim duck his head and quickly turn away in order to hide the smile he couldn’t choke back.

“It’s my lucky hat,” Blair added quietly a moment later. There was still a trace of sassiness in his voice, but it was a bit shaky now, and defensive. Apparently he couldn’t totally ignore Jim’s unspoken opinion.

Jim turned back around. “Since when?” he asked, genuinely curious. He wished he could see Blair’s eyes. The hat had always been too big for him and slipped down over his eyes even with a head full of thick curls. But now, with the volume of his hair just a fraction of what it’d been, the furry front flap completed obscured his eyes.

Blair shrugged in the non-committal way he’d adopted since his injury that stated he didn’t want to talk about it because he wasn’t confident about his answer.

Jim hated that shrug.

Blair walked over to one of the couches and flopped down on it. He shifted around a bit, letting the backpack slide partway down his arm so it rested at his side. He laid the folder on his lap and put his hands on top of it, curling the fingers of each hand around each other in fidgety restlessness.

Jim followed him to the couch and sat on the coffee table, directly in front of him. He tapped the tops of Blair’s knees reassuringly.

“I don’t wanna go,” Blair said grumpily. He didn’t look at Jim. Instead, he started toying with the edges of the folder.

“Sure you do. You’ve been ready for this for a couple weeks now, looking forward to it,” Jim countered, seeing right through the ploy. “You’re just mad at me because you think I don’t think that’s your lucky hat.”

Blair looked up then. Or at least he tried to. The movement just caused the hat to slip further down on his face. He crinkled his nose in a futile attempt to get the hat to move and finally used a hand to push it upward, revealing his eyes. He narrowed them, giving Jim a neatly dismissive glare.

“It is my lucky hat,” he insisted. “I’m wearin’ it.”

Jim backed off, raising his hands surrender-style. “Okay.”

“You don’t believe me,” Blair huffed. “And, and you hid it,” he accused.

Jim couldn’t help it; he chuckled. “I didn’t hide it, Chief. It’s the middle of summer. You’ll roast with it on. I just packed it away until winter.” Which wasn’t strictly true. He’d come close to chucking it, but couldn’t bring himself to, so instead he’d tucked it away in the bottom of a box in the back of Blair’s closet.

Blair opened his mouth to say something but wavered.

Jim gave one of Blair’s knees a gentle, encouraging squeeze.

“I remember,” Blair began hesitantly, “I think I remember, but maybe it was just a dream.”

“Remember what?” Jim prodded, not giving a damn now if they were late for the appointment with Dan McKenna.

“I remember sitting in the truck with you. It was night and we were talking. I put this hat on.” Blair paused and slowly pulled the hat off his head and scrunched it tightly with both hands. His curls sprang out, crackling with static electricity that only Jim could hear.

“And I remember you laughed and smiled and it was one of those smiles that you do when you think I’m goofy, you know?” He looked at Jim apprehensively.

Jim nodded and grinned. “I remember that night. It wasn’t a dream.”

“So, I dug through my closet this morning, and when I found it, I---,” Blair stopped and shrugged again.

“You figured it was your lucky hat,” Jim filled in for him.

“Dumb, huh?” Blair asked.

“Nah,” Jim answered easily. “Do you remember anything else about that night?”

Blair screwed his face up in thought and then he slowly shook his head. “No,” he whispered dejectedly. “I kinda made a mess in my room, looking for it,” he added apologetically.

“It’s your room. You made the mess. You clean it up,” Jim replied in a teasing but practical tone.

Blair rolled his eyes and got up, letting the hat, his backpack, and the folder drop to the floor. His diplomas fluttered out and skittered under the table. He seemed oblivious to it as he started back toward his room.

“Whoa there, Junior,” Jim said, causing Blair to stop. “I didn’t mean right now. You’ve got an appointment with Dan this morning, remember?” He quickly retrieved the things from the floor. He tossed the hat on the couch and held the other items out.

Blair laughed sheepishly and then gave Jim a beaming smile as he grabbed his backpack and folder. “Oh yeah. I’m gonna show him my diplomas, right Jim?”

“That’s right, Chief,” Jim agreed.

“But I don’t have a lucky hat, do I?” Blair groused in a self-pitying tone as he looked sadly at the Fargo hat. “’Cuz it’s too hot, huh?” 

Jim didn’t understand the sudden need for a lucky hat, or a hat of any kind for that matter. But he didn’t see any reason to debate the issue either, so…

“Sure you do,” he disagreed as he placed a hand in the small of Blair’s back and steered him toward the door. He snagged his Jags cap from its hook and held it out to Blair. “The trick with lucky hats,” he explained, “is wearing the right one for the right occasion.”

“Cool,” Blair said as he took it and put it on. He tugged the bill down snugly so that it shaded his eyes almost as completely as the Fargo hat did. “How’s that?”

Jim just shook his head. He pulled the hat off, but before Blair could register a protest, he flipped it around and put it on Blair’s head backward.

“There,” he said approvingly. “That’s better.”

And several hours later, Jim had good reason to believe in lucky hats.


End file.
